


Bring Me A Hero

by BladeOfOlympus



Category: Egyptian Mythology, Original Work
Genre: and cursing, devon wants to rest, dion wants some adventure, theres a drakon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 15:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladeOfOlympus/pseuds/BladeOfOlympus
Summary: To his defense, when Dion had wished for adventure that morning while reading Harry Potter, he hadn’t really meant it. He was perfectly fine with keeping up his job at Sonic and living in an very small apartment and doing his college homework. He was 21, and that was way past the age for a magical adventure. So to his defense, Dion didn’t actually expect any sort of adventure to take over his life. He certainly hadn’t expected a bleeding teen to break into his apartment at two in the morning.





	Bring Me A Hero

To his defense, when Dion had wished for adventure that morning while reading Harry Potter, he hadn’t really meant it. He was perfectly fine with keeping up his job at Sonic and living in an very small apartment and doing his college homework. He was 21, and that was way past the age for a magical adventure. So to his defense, Dion didn’t actually expect any sort of adventure to take over his life. He certainly hadn’t expected a bleeding teen to break into his apartment at two in the morning.

The teen and he stared at each other silently. They were leaning against his front door, breathing sorta heavily, and there seemed to be a vague aura of dark around them. There were scratches all over their face, and Dion noticed that they were holding their side, which was bleeding heavily.

“Shit.” He said, shattering the tense silence. “Shit. You’re bleeding!”

“Really.” The teen said dryly. “I didn’t notice.”

“Shouldn’t we like, do something about that?!“

"Look,” The teen said, sounding annoyed, “I didn’t think anyone would be awake, so why don’t you go to bed and convince yourself this is a dream so I can get back to what I was doing?”

“But you're bleeding.” Dion protested. The teen gave him an unimpressed look. “At least let me, like, clean it up or something! Give you a new shirt!”

“If I let you do that, will you go convince yourself that this is a dream?” The teen asked, somehow managing to look like a disappointed mother. Dion nodded slowly, though he knew this probably wouldn’t be so easily forgotten, even if he was only running on four hours of sleep and a red bull. The teen sighed. “Fine then. But be quick.”

“Okay. Alright.” Dion ran off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit his aunt had demanded he keep, leaving the teen to limp to the couch and collapse on it. They lifted their hand to look down at the cut, wincing. Sickly green was starting to show up at the edges of the gouge. And it was right over the tattooed healing glyphs. The teen huffed and put their hand back over it, not wanting to look at it more than they had to. Dion slid back into the room, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed to kneel by the couch.

“Here.” The teen muttered, removing their bloody hand again and looking up at the ceiling. “Hurry up, please.”

“Yeah, okay, got it.” Dion agreed, pulling up the teen’s shirt carefully. He got out disinfectant and pulled off the towel he’d slung over his shoulder, and started to gently dab up the blood. “Wh-what’s your name?”

“Devon. Stop being so dainty and slow, whatever your name is, I can handle the pain."

"I’m Dion.” He offered, following Devon’s orders and just pressing the towel down on their side. Devon barely flinched. “So, um, what… happened?”

“Sorry, if you have time to talk, you must be done. I don’t have enough time to carry a conversation.” Devon said, trying to stand. Dion used the hands holding the towel to push them right back down without thinking, drawing a pained hiss. “Hey!”

“Sorry!!” Dion fretted, pulling the towel away. Devon glared at him but thankfully didn’t try and stand again. Dion hurried to spray the deep cut with the disinfectant, pointedly forcing himself ignore the grunt of pain Devon let out, then picked up a roll of white bandages and looked at Devon’s torso uncertainly. “Can you… take off your shirt? Or just lift it?”

Devon lifted the black shirt up halfway, revealing the many black glyphs tattooed there, and watched Dion carefully as he began wrapping the wound. He didn’t say a thing about the tattoos, though he certainly wondered about them. There were so many of the Egyptian-looking marks. How had Devon gotten them all? They didn’t look old enough.

“Uh, how old are you?” Dion asked meekly. Devon moved their gaze from his hand to his face, and for some reason it felt like Dion was being pierced through by the brown eyes. Then Devon looked back at his hands and he could breath again.

“I’m nineteen. And didn’t I say I had no time for conversation?”

“I’m nearly done!” Dion defended, pulling out some medical tape to pin the end of the bandage down. “See?!”

“Thank the gods.” Devon murmured, dropping their shirt. Dion gave them a curious look, but they ignored it and forced themself to their feet. Dion shot up and opened his mouth to tell Devon that they really shouldn’t be moving around, but they pierced him with their gaze again. “Now you go to bed and pretend this was a dream. Go on. Shoo.”

“But–”

“Nope. Leave. Get. Buh-bye.” Devon waved him towards the inner part of the apartment and strode with minimal difficulty to the door. They scooped up a bronze, curved sword that Dion had definitely not seen before, and opened the door. “It shouldn’t be frozen for much longer, so I’ll be going now.”

“What? Wait a second!” Dion scrambled to follow them as they stepped through the doorway. “What won’t be frozen?”

A cacophonous roar rang through the apartment building, accompanied by a loud crash and the feeling of the entire building shaking violently. Dion grabbed on to his doorway, but Devon was sent stumbling, only to hit a wall. They glared down the hall, and the shadowy aura Dion had noticed at first but had slowly forgotten was visible again.

“That should have lasted another twenty minutes!” They hissed loudly, forcing themself upright. They pointed their curved sword at the ground and shouted something that Dion either couldn’t hear or understand. A blue hieroglyph blazed to life where they pointed and the building stopped shaking. The roaring stopped at the same time and there was quiet. Dion stared in shock at Devon.

“Wh-how–what was that?!” He whisper-shouted, not sure if the thing that had been roaring would be able to hear him if he did it at full volume. Devon shot their glare at him for a second, then intensely re-focused it on the hallway. “Devon–!”

“Shut up!” They hissed, pointing down the hallway. Dion snapped his mouth shut and listened intently. There was the faint sound of nails clicking on the floor, hissing, and chains jangling. He sent Devon a panicked look that clearly meant ‘WHAT IS THAT?!’ but they weren’t looking at him. They kept their eyes on the end of the hall as they slowly stepped sideways to him and held out their free hand. “Hands. Quietly.”

Dion put one of his hands in theirs, and they glanced down quickly, scowling at the sight of their blood. They stepped back over to the bright hieroglyph on the floor, yanking him along, and knelt. Dion did too, mostly so it wouldn’t be so uncomfortable, and watched, bewildered, as Devon used their still-bloody hand to trace the lines of the hieroglyph. When they were done, the noises were louder and accompanied by huffing breaths. Devon nodded firmly at the hieroglyph, confident that it would do it’s job and stabilize the building, and stood abruptly. Dion followed quickly, only to be yanked down the hall.

“We have to get out of this building.” Devon whispered to him as they pulled. “You have my blood on you, so you can be hurt directly for now. Just don’t ingest it, and it’ll be fine.”

“Hurt?!” Dion whispered back furiously, pointing them to the door that led to the stairwell. “By what?!"

"Drakon. Greek. I accidentally wandered into its nest, and it decided it wanted a snack.” Devon pulled him through the door and shut it quietly behind them. They let go of his hand and started down the stairs “C'mon.”

“What do you mean, drakon?!” He hissed, following, though against his better judgement. “Drakons don’t exist! Right?!”

Devon didn’t answer. Dion stared at their back, mind racing. Drakons. Greek drakons. What in the world had he gotten into? Why had him trying to help turned into him being in danger? And who was Devon? What were they? Why did they deal with things like drakons and have what seemed to be magic?

“What have I gotten myself into?” He muttered despairingly, dragging a hand down his face. Devon glanced back at him, but continued their silence. He noticed them tightening their grip on the curved sword. Suddenly they stopped and he nearly ran into them.

“It’s nearly here.” They said at normal volume, grabbing his hand. No use in being quiet now. The door at the top of the stairwell exploded open and the green and gold drakon spilled in, shrieking. “Let’s go, come on!”

The two rushed down the stairs, both using their other hand to cover their ears. The drakon crashed after them, shrieking and howling and generally trying to burst their eardrums. Devon didn’t even bother with opening the door, only yelled ’Ha-di!‘ and made the door explode with a hieroglyph.

"Won’t that make it easier for it to follow us?!” Dion shouted as Devon pulled him through and they started dashing through the thankfully empty lobby.

“Shut up!” Devon shouted back.

“SKRAAAAA!” The drakon screamed at them. Devon yanked Dion out of the way as it lunged, and then pulled him in front.

“Get outside!” They commanded, pushing him, literally, to go faster. They both burst out of the apartment building onto the streets, drakon hot on their tails. Devon pushed Dion towards an upcoming alleyway, finally letting go of his hand. “Hide! I’ll kill it!”

“What?! But, Devon–!”

“Go! I can’t deal with this thing when you’re in the way!” They barked, glancing over their shoulder and grimacing. Dion bit his lip but did as they asked, running to the alley and diving into it. The drakon completely ignored him, instead roaring and continuing after Devon. Worried, Dion watched as Devon sprinted a few more yards, then skidded to a stop and faced the charging drakon. He felt his stomach drop. After all this, they were going to die?

Devon took a deep breath, trying to calm themself as much as possible with an angry drakon charging at them. They were going to need a lot of magic for this. As the drakon got closer, they moved into a sturdy stand and pointed their khopesh at its roaring maw. Their eyes began to glow white and a unnatural wind whipped their dark hair around.

“HA-DI.” They said calmly, but in a way that echoed, focusing the magic through their khopesh. Blazing hieroglyphs sprung to life, startling the drakon and awing Dion, and then the drakon just… exploded. Silver dust flew everywhere, and one last wail hung in the air. Dion stared at the dust rain in awe, not believing what he’d just seen. Maybe this was just a dream after all.

The loud clang of Devon’s sword dropping to the ground made Dion look over just in time to see them collapse to their knees, coughing harshly. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted over, dropping to his knees next to them. They coughed into their mostly clean hand and when they pulled it away, it was covered in blood.

“Devon! Shit, you’re bleeding!"

"Really.” Devon croaked, looking at their hands. “I didn’t notice.”

“This is no time for you to be a smartass, Devon, this looks serio–” Dion stopped, blinking in confusion. He leaned closer to their face as if suspecting they’d hit their head or something. “Did you just repeat yourself? Was that some form of joke? You’re terrible at it, if so…”

They pushed his face away, leaving behind a bloody handprint.

“Get out of my face, dick.” They huffed. “That was a lot of magic and I don’t have enough energy for you.”

“Do you need to go back to my apartment and rest or anything??” Dion fretted. Devon made a face at him, waving for him to back off

“No. They’ll be back soon and you’ll be back to your plane You should go home. Pretend it’s a dream.” They dismissed, slumping. Dion opened his mouth to ask who 'they’ was and refuse to leave. Devon pierced him through with their gaze again. “Go home, Dion."

”…Yeah. Okay.“ He stood slowly and started shuffling backwards. "I’ll… see you again soon?”

“Maybe.” Devon allowed. Dion gave him a quick smile and started back to his apartment, feeling a little put out. All this and now he just had to go back to normal? He licked his lips absentmindedly and then remembered that his face was covered in blood now. Even his lips, the metallic taste testified as he twisted his lips in disgust.

“Well if it isn’t the guy who never shuts up about toilet paper!” A distant voice called out jovially. Dion stopped at the building’s doors and looked back. A guy was walking towards Devon with a meek looking girl following along.

“It’s not toilet paper, fucktard!” Devon yelled back. The rest of what they said, Dion couldn’t hear. But at least he knew Devon wasn’t going to be alone now. He supposed that meant this little adventure was over. With a sigh, he stepped into the lobby.


End file.
